


body language

by AvaRosier



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/F, Octavia is deaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:32:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4044256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia meets a hot chick on her first day of classes. This has got to be some kind of record, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	body language

Octavia’s alarm clock has a freaking strong vibration, and she’d been worried enough about oversleeping and just masochistic enough to set the alarm itself out of arm’s reach of her loft bed so she’d be forced to get down to make it stop. She was normally a night shower person, but for her first day of college, she decided to make an exception just so her hair would be a little nicer than usual. Her roommate is evidently one of those annoying early-risers who eats oatmeal in the morning and always has her homework done on Friday night before it’s due the next week. But Maya didn’t treat her like a poor, downtrodden soul to be pitied and babied at every turn, so that gave her major points in Octavia’s book.

Monday, when her mother and brother had helped her move in, her mom had taken the hint that Octavia was ready to spread her wings on her own, hugged her and signed <Have fun. I love you>, then started to back out the door. But Bellamy had stood there with one of those frowns that told Octavia that he was having ~feelings~ and she’d had to put up with ten minutes of him trying to think of all the possible things she might need and situations that he had to tell her how to deal with. Finally their mom had dragged him out and she’d been free at last.

Octavia manages to find the correct building for her first class without having to check her map like some kind of amateur freshman. It’s an enormous lecture hall, meant to seat 200 students and no matter how much she wishes she could just sit towards the back and not draw attention to herself, she has to go right up to the front row.  The thing is, after going to MSD, she’s not used to being around hearing students like this, and having an interpreter means many of those eyes are going to be boring a hole into her back. Even with the nerves gnawing a hole in her upper intestine, she lets her notebook slap down on the adjustable desk and stares straight ahead with her best bitchface.

It’s not that Octavia doesn’t  _care_ , it’s just that she goes to great lengths to make sure it doesn’t show.

Five minutes before class starts, the professor arrives and starts setting up at the front of the room. She watches…shoot what was his name…Professor Kane get the powerpoint up on the screen and ready a stack of syllabi. Her interpreter still hasn’t arrived and Octavia begins to rehash some of the nightmares she’d had in the past two weeks: ones where her professors keep asking her to do something or say something but she doesn’t have a clue what, and they become increasingly irritated with her until she startles awake. Surely that wouldn’t happen in a class of two hundred?

Octavia begins to flush in anticipation of the humiliation of not understanding what Dr. Kane was talking about; she sits ramrod straight and tries to will her heartbeat to slow down. Someone strides into her field of vision and picks up the chair behind the table, sets it several feet in front of Octavia and sits down. Her interpreter looks to be in her early twenties and has long, curly light brown hair half-gathered off her face and steady grey-blue eyes that regard her steadily.

She signs her salutations before flipping her palm over as it moves in front of her torso to indicate herself. <Hello, I’m L-e-x-a.>

<Octavia.> Her name sign is stupid. It’s just an ‘O’ followed by ‘8’. She’d tried at MSD to come up with a better one, but it was hard to find the perfect one that would work with the letter ‘O’. (Not like President Obama, who got a rocking name sign: ‘O’ followed by a short rainbow, like in his campaign sticker.)

<Nice to meet you.>

<You, too.>

Professor Kane notices them signing and strolls over to start a conversation. Octavia hates it when that happens, because she knows this may be a first for them, but it just makes her feel like a circus sideshow. Lexa signs her side of the conversation, which tells Octavia that he’s asking if there’s anything further he can do to accommodate them. A streak of red moves at her right, distracting her from Professor Kane and Lexa. Another student her age has dropped into the seat two down from her.

Octavia gives her a not-so-surreptitious once-over; taking in the way the girl’s black jeans cling to her muscular thighs, the slightly sheer shirt that gives her a peek of the dark sports bra underneath, and the seriously awesome vintage red leather jacket she’s rocking even though it’s hot here in the middle of August. Professor Kane notices her and his eyes twinkle as he presses the side of his forefinger to his lips to hide the smile that threatens to show. He says something to her, which Octavia misses because he’s saying it softly enough that he barely enunciates. But Octavia definitely understands the chick’s body language when she shrugs and gives the professor a look that clearly says ‘what are you gonna do about it?’

She’s cute.

Aaaandddd she looks up and notices Octavia staring at her. Octavia makes it a point to not show weakness, so she just meets the challenge in those big, dark eyes with a smirk of her own. Her way of saying ‘what are you gonna do about it?’ That gets her a snort before the hottie looks away—class is starting.

It’s actually not so bad; she doesn’t really care about Intro to American Politics, but it knocks off a Gen Ed requirement. Lexa isn’t one of her more expressive interpreters, but she’s very graceful and skilled. Octavia does her level best to keep her attention firmly on Lexa rather than the girl next to her. There’s fifteen minutes to go before the end of class when Professor Kane utters the dreaded words, which Lexa signs with the same gravitas as she had the grading system.

<Pair up and brainstorm a list of things you believe define the American political system.>

Octavia could have groaned out loud. She hated groupwork with the fire of a thous— A notebook slaps down on the desk next to hers and Octavia halts in the middle of her self-contained whining to see that the hot chick has moved closer to her, clearly intending for them to partner each other. Which is a relief, especially when there is a really cute blonde further down the row.

 _Hey I’m ~waving~,_  she says.

Octavia subtly glances in Lexa’s direction, and her interpreter barely misses a beat while she’s in the process of moving her chair closer.

<R-a-v-e-n.>

“I’m Octavia,” she answers with a smile. She had gone to speech therapy classes when she was younger, but because she rarely spoke, she always felt self-conscious about her speech. Raven doesn’t stare at Lexa, who is sat just past her so Octavia can see her without having to look away from Raven; she looks at Octavia when she talks to her. Major, major points. It becomes immediately clear that her partner is very smart and very, very sarcastic. Their answers to Professor Kane’s question are probably very irreverent, but Octavia doesn’t care because this right here? This is making new friends she might possibly get some grinding action on with.

Lexa taps her finger against her palm, telling Octavia the bell has rung and the entire lecture hall becomes a flurry of students turning their answer sheets in and Professor Kane reminding them about their first reading assignment for the next class. Octavia returns to her seat to find Raven tossing a sheet of paper on her desk and waving at Octavia over her shoulder as she makes her way up the stairs along with the teeming throng of students.

Octavia picks up the paper and breaks into a wide grin when she reads the inelegant scrawl on it.

**_410-322-1878_ **

**_We should hang._ **

**_-R._ **

Lexa taps her shoulder to get her attention and when Octavia looks up, her interpreter—who had for the entire fifty minutes maintained a strict air of professionalism—arches a single eyebrow and smiles with faint amusement. Her clawed right hand moves up and down in the air twice between her neck and shoulder, saying it all.

<Impressive.>


End file.
